


Carry Me Down the Street

by haemophilus



Series: Transcendental Youth [4]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canonical Minor Character Death, Gen, Self-Destruction, Substance Abuse, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 08:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11055093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/pseuds/haemophilus
Summary: When Mac and Charlie were 21, they went on the most epic bender of all time.





	Carry Me Down the Street

**Author's Note:**

> So this is about 6K longer than it has any right to be. To anyone who clicks on whatever this is- thanks. Outside of work, this fic has consumed my waking days. I am happy with how it turned out, and I hope you like it too.
> 
> Massive content warning for literally every single drug on the planet. There is smoking, snorting, injecting, ingesting, and drinking. There are mentions of sexual assault occurring on a college campus. The slurs 'whore' and 'bitch' are used. Dooley dies in this fic which is referenced on the show so I feel fine saying so up front. Clear addictive patterns and alcoholism are at play. Distress about financial instability and homelessness can be found here. Dubiously consensual kissing and internalized homophobia. Daddy issues.
> 
> Basically Sunny is a trigger warning of a show and this fic explores all of that in its nasty glory.
> 
> You don't have to read the other two fics in this series to understand what is going on, but I think they may provide some emotional context for what occurs in this fic.
> 
> The structure of this fic is totally based on the episode "That's Too Much, Man!" from season 3 of Bojack Horseman. I tip my hat to Raphael Bob-Waksberg for the inspiration.
> 
> Thanks also to golden_goose, singingtomysoul, and pringlesaremydivision for cheerleading and not hating me every time I said 'fucking Christ, how long is this fic going to be?'

_One day you'll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom. And you'll be thinking: how did I get here? Where the hell am I?_ \- Maps

***

“Look, just give me a week and I’ll have your rent,” said Mac. His four-foot elderly bitch of a landlord, Dolores, was staring up at him with a look of fury on her face.

“I already gave you a two-week extension, Ronald,” she said.

“Yeah, and I was thinking in two weeks I would have a new job but I don’t, ok?” Mac replied. “And for the last time – it’s Mac.”

Dolores squinted at him through her coke-bottle glasses. “What happened to your side-action?”

All of his buyers had stopped answering his phone calls.

“None of your business,” said Mac.

“It’s my business if it’s reliable income,” said Dolores.

“Well, it’s not right now!” cried Mac. “So again, none of your goddamn business.”

“Drug possession is a very serious crime, you know,” said Dolores, straightening her glasses. “In the hypothetical situation that a drug dealer was keeping drugs in my building, I’d suggest he get them out of there as soon as possible.”

“Is that a threat?” cried Mac incredulously. Dolores shrugged.

“Not if you’re a man with a wad of cash instead of a man with a knapsack of drugs.”

Mac swallowed nervously. “I’ll get you your money by Friday.”

Dolores gave him a curt nod. “Good. I expect you to keep your word this time, Ronald.”

As Dolores hobbled away, he shouted, “It’s Mac!”

The old bitch didn’t respond.

*

“There’s no way I can sell all those drugs by tomorrow,” said Mac. He paced back and forth in Charlie’s new apartment, hands clenched in his hair. “I’m fucked. I’m so fucked.”

“Calm down, dude,” said Charlie. He held out a bag full of rubber cement he had been huffing. “Huff this.”

Mac grabbed the bag, and breathed deep. The warmth of the high immediately stilled his anxious brain. He flopped down on Charlie’s filthy couch and huffed the rubber cement again. Then, a brilliant thought appeared in his mind.

“I figured out the answer to all of my problems,” said Mac.

“That’s great!” said Charlie. “How?”

“We’re going to go on the most epic bender of all time,” said Mac.

*

His stash was spread out on the floor of Charlie's apartment like a veritable smorgasbord of sin. The bags of powder, weed, and pills were all theirs for the taking. Stolen cases of beer were piled onto all of Charlie’s furniture. Cans of spray paint and glue rested on top of them. He searched around in the pile for weed; when he looked up, Charlie was rubbing cocaine on his gums.

“Goddammit, Charlie!” said Mac. “Don’t waste good blow by gumming it.”

“It feels great though. My face is all numb now,” he said, blinking very hard.

Mac handed him the hand mirror and straw.

“It’s ten times better if you snort it. Trust me.”

Then, Mac reached for a bottle of vodka, opened it, and downed it straight.

*

“-And then I said to him, ‘Hey, douchebag, you better stop shit-talking _Happy Gilmore_ unless you want someone to kick your ass!’ And then I totally pounded him into oblivion.” said Mac. Charlie burst into red-eyed giggles.

“No, you didn’t, man. I was there. You ran as soon as that dude cracked his knuckles.”

Mac took in his surroundings. Three boxes of beer were empty, and the bottles were strewn all over the floor. The room reeked of weed and liquor. It was the dead of night outside; cats were yowling at the top of their lungs. A black and white sci-fi film was playing on the tv. All of the lights were off.

“I don’t remember why I was telling you that story,” said Mac.

Charlie sighed. “Shit, dude, I dunno. You smoked some meth and got, like, obsessed with Adam Sandler for two hours.”

“That makes sense. He’s pretty much the best comedian who has ever lived,” said Mac.

“You’ve said that like six times already,” said Charlie. “Take some downers; your high is killing my buzz.”

Mac sat down on the floor, and rifled around in their stash. He grabbed a couple of oxy and downed them with liquor.

“What’s on tv?” he asked

“You picked it out. It’s some stupid movie about dinosaurs that –”

*

“- Hey, remember the place where we smoked weed when we were kids? It was a big building with like stars all over the ceiling and shit?” asked Charlie. He took a huge hit off of a bong, and blew out an enormous cloud of smoke.

“The Planetarium?” asked Mac.

“Yeah, that thing,” said Charlie. “Whatever happened to it?”

Mac knocked back a half-empty bottle of vodka, and winced at the caustic flavor.

“It’s still there,” he said.

“Oh, shit dude. We should go!” said Charlie.

“I dunno,” said Mac. “The stars are cool and whatever but they put lectures over top of them and I don’t want some stupid science bitch ruining my buzz.”

“I guarantee you wouldn’t notice that if you were super high –”

*

“- I just can’t believe everyone would ditch me like that, you know? Just cos they went off to college. Like a college diploma has ever made anyone more smarter.”

Mac was pacing. A heavy bottle was clenched in his hand. It was daytime now; he was still wearing the same clothes. Charlie’s futon was pulled out, and Charlie was stretched out on it, snoring. Whether or not he had been awake for the beginning of Mac’s rant was lost to the sands of time. Mac yawned, sat down on the futon next to Charlie, and turned on the TV.

A commercial for Burger King’s breakfast appeared onscreen. Mac’s stomach grumbled. He tapped Charlie’s foot.

“Charlie, wake up.”

Charlie jolted awake. “If you asshole aliens try to take my kidneys one more time, I swear to GOD-”

“Easy, man!” said Mac, touching his shoulder in a show of comfort. “It’s just me.”

Charlie’s body went loose. “Good. I got abducted like four times last night and I’m really tired of it.”

Mac inspected the empty baggie resting near Charlie’s head.

“Holy shit. It looks like you did enough PCP last night to kill a guy ten times your size.”

Charlie buried his face in his elbow. “Shit. It’s all coming back to me. I think the aliens made me smoke all of the PCP, Mac.”

“That didn’t happen,” said Mac. “But moving on – I’m starving. We should get breakfast.”

“Can’t go outside. The aliens will find me,” groaned Charlie.

Mac leaned over, picked up a baggie of Xanax, and took out four. He dropped two near Charlie’s face, and swallowed the other two dry.

“Take those,” he said. “You won’t ever worry about anything again.”

*

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!! AHHHHHH!!!!” screamed Charlie. He was hugging twelve bags of fast food to his chest, and frantically scanning the surrounding traffic. Mac’s heart was beating hummingbird-fast from adrenaline. He didn’t own a car, but he was driving one.

“Charlie,” he said with a shaking voice. “What’s happening?”

“WE DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH ROOM IN OUR ARMS FOR ALL THIS FOOD SO I SAID WE SHOULD HOTWIRE A CAR AND YOU SAID YES BUT I CAN’T DRIVE SO YOU’RE DRIVING, YOU’RE DRIVING A HOTWIRED CAR!”

“Where were we even planning on going?” cried Mac. “This isn’t the road home!”

Charlie, wiped sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand. “WE WERE GOING TO – ”

*

“See, Dennis doesn’t even get us, man,” said Charlie, mouth full of burger. He was sprawled on his back on the living room floor of his apartment. “Like, you and me, right now. We’re eating delicious burgers that we got in bulk from the hamburger store. Dennis would never go to that hamburger store so that idea would have died. Not you and me. We see an opportunity and we go for it, you know?”

Mac nodded, and took three enormous hits from a joint. “He thinks he’s so much better than us for saying no to cool shit.”

Charlie held his hand out for the joint, and Mac passed it over.

“When was the last time you even heard from him?” asked Charlie.

“Shit,” said Mac, grabbing for a can of beer. He opened it, and it foamed onto his hand. Mac chugged it, thinking. After he burped, he said, “Months, dude. What a tool.”

He grabbed a cup of fries from the bag, and stuffed four into his mouth. The savory taste of salt and oil coated his mouth; he licked his lips.

“These are the best fries I’ve ever eaten,” said Mac. “I dunno what Burger King is putting in em but –”

Charlie burst out laughing. “Dude, you are so high right now –”

*

“HEY!” yelled Mac as an empty beer bottle arced from his hand and smashed into a house. “COME OUT HERE, ASSHOLE! WE GOT BEEF!”

Charlie threw a bottle at the building too. He missed, and it smashed on the sidewalk. “Goddammit!” he said as he took a sip of the bottle in his other hand. “How the hell are we supposed to get satisfaction if he won’t even come out?”

Mac took a swig of his own beer, and wracked his brain for a solution.

“Who are we trying to get satisfaction from, again?” he asked.

Charlie turned towards him, and gave him a puzzled look. “You don’t remember?”

Mac frowned as he reached through the blank recesses of his mind for something, anything.

“I must have blacked out,” he said.

Charlie buried his face in his hand. “Well, shit man. I did too.”

“So, neither of us knows why we’re throwing bottles at this house?” asked Mac.

“Nope,” said Charlie. He downed the rest of his beer, and tossed another bottle at the house. His aim was good this time; it hit the house and shattered into a thousand pieces. “It’s pretty fun though.”

Mac downed the rest of his beer, and gripped the neck of the bottle in his fist.

“I have an idea,” he said. “We keep throwing bottles at the house and yelling until whoever is in the house tells us to knock it off. When they show their face, it might jog our memory about what our beef is with them.”

Charlie gave him an idea. “Awesome plan.”

Mac tossed his empty bottle at the house –

*

“Goddammit! You can’t just come to my frat in the middle of the night and throw bottles at the house!” yelled Dennis. He was red-faced and wearing only pajama pants. Mac burped, and tasted bile in his throat.

“I didn’t,” he slurred. “Charlie and I did it together.”

“Oh, I’m _very_ aware that Charlie was involved,” said Dennis through gritted teeth.

Mac looked around to see where he was. “Why is Charlie gone?” he asked, noticing his absence.

“He passed out on the porch while swearing at the doorbell,” said Dennis.

Mac giggled. “Classic Charlie.”

Dennis rolled his eyes. “Why are you here, Mac?”

Angry thoughts stumbled over each other inside Mac’s brain.

“I got beef with you,” he said, hiccupping.

“What beef could you possibly have with me?” said Dennis. “We haven’t spoken in months.”

“That’s my beef!” said Mac, jabbing his finger at Dennis. “You think you’re so much more better and more cooler than us ever since you went to college. Treating us like we’re white trash.”

“And you think the way to disprove that is to scream and throw glass bottles at buildings at three in the morning?” said Dennis.

“Yeah I mean. . .that’s why we were doing it, man,” said Mac.

Dennis rubbed at his temples. “Unbelievable.”

“Listen. . .listen. I got a way for this beef to get eaten,” said Mac. “It’s so easy dude.”

Dennis sighed. “What is it?”

Mac grinned, and pulled a baggie of coke out of his pocket. “Get high with us.”

*

“- And Jesus Christ, I didn’t assault her, ok, the whole goddamn restraining order is fucking ridiculous. Suddenly I gotta be a social leper cos some bitch led me on? You know? It’s bullshit, man.”

Dennis’s empty beer bottle shattered upon impact with the speeding train. The shards of glass glittered brightly in the early hours of the morning. Mac and Charlie cheered.

“The thing about women,” said Mac, cracking open another beer. “Is you just got two types: bitches and whores. You, my friend, mistook a bitch for a whore.”

“You got moms too,” said Charlie.

“Moms aren’t women, Charlie,” said Mac.

“Not true,” said Dennis. He opened another beer too, and downed half in an instant. “My mom is both a bitch and a whore.”

“Oh dude. That’s probably why you got so confused. Your mom made you all messed up in the head,” said Charlie.

Dennis scoffed. “My head is fine. It’s everyone else who’s the problem.”

He finished his beer, and threw his empty bottle at the train. It hit the ground instead.

“One for two. You gotta work on your aim,” said Mac.

Dennis groaned. “My sober aim is flawless. I’m just crashing pretty hard.”

A wave of exhaustion punched Mac in the chest.

“Fuck, I think I am too –”

*

“- No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. The word of the lord," said the priest.

“Thanks be to God,” said the crowd of people surrounding them.

Mac looked up and saw a high vaulted ceiling and dozens of beautiful stained-glass windows. Everyone around them was dressed in their best clothes. Beside him, Charlie took a swig of beer. A half-empty case was in his lap, and a bottle was in Mac’s hand.

“Are we drinking in church?” said Mac.

Charlie shrugged. “It was your idea. I wanted to take LSD at the planetarium, but you refused.”

Mac sniffed his sleeveless shirt, and nearly gagged.

“Dude, we can’t be here. I don’t even know the last time I showered.”

Charlie took another sip of beer. “You washed your pits and nuts in a Wawa bathroom yesterday.”

“That’s gross,” said Mac. “Like, homeless level gross.”

“Well, you _are_ homeless,” said Charlie.

The fact, stated so plainly, stole air from Mac’s lungs. “Oh,” he said in a small voice. “I guess you’re right.”

Charlie patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t look so bummed out. It’s not that bad; you just sobered up for a minute. You’ll feel a lot better when you’re drunk again.”

The parish started to sing. Mac raised the bottle to his lips.

“Amen, amen, amen –”

*

“– It’s just like, I don’t know why every manager in Philly has all of these rules, you know?” said Mac, wiping tears from his face. “They don’t even make any sense! Don’t show up drunk to a liquor store?! What the shit is that?”

Mac pulled his legs up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. A brisk wind blew in his direction, and he shivered. The chair he was sitting on was soaked through with rain; it was seeping into his pants. Other wet furniture – a dresser, a coffee table, another chair – surrounded him. It was all his stuff. Or, at least, it used to be. Now it was trash on the curb, waiting for a garbage man to pick it up and take it away.

“I don’t even know, man,” said Charlie. He was sitting on the coffee table with a sixer on his lap. A bag of inhalants was in his right hand. Charlie held it up to his nose, and inhaled deeply.

“I feel like nobody gives me a chance to prove myself. Like, people see one mistake and then you’re out on the curb,” said Mac. His throat felt raw. “Gimme a beer.”

Charlie passed him a beer, and Mac twisted it open. He tossed the cap into the street, and took a big drink. The lukewarm beer soothed some of the pain in his throat. He sighed with relief.

“I know what you mean though,” said Charlie. “It’s like, this is America. Why do all of these places expect you to turn in a stupid piece of paper before they even talk to you? I should be free from having to fill that shit out if I don’t want to. Let them judge my character by meeting me, you know? It’s bullshit, man.”

He closed his eyes, and took another huff.

“What do you have in there?” asked Mac.

“Paint thinner,” said Charlie. “Strongest stuff around. Want some?”

“You know it,” said Mac.

*

“- I’m telling you, dad, we’re super tough. The toughest guys probably in all of Philadelphia,” said Mac. His dad stared back, not blinking. Somehow, someone had admitted Mac and Charlie into the prison while they were both blackout high on paint thinner.

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Mac, that while we don’t look very strong, we have sort of a Rocky-type situation going on right now. We’re at the bottom but it’s just because we had to get there to be ready for our training,” said Charlie.

“You’ve tried to explain that to me three times this week and I still have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Luther.

The words reverberated in Mac’s head: three times this week. Mac grabbed Charlie’s arm.

“Sidebar,” he said, getting up from the table. Charlie followed him to the corner of the room.

“Why are you pulling me away, dude? I was totally going to get through to him this time,” said Charlie.

“Have we really been here three times this week?” asked Mac.

“Yeah,” said Charlie. “It’s super boring.”

“Have we been other times since we started going on our bender?” asked Mac.

Charlie squinted his eyes and thought for a moment. “At least twelve.”

“Twelve times?” said Mac, incredulous. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s because you keep forgetting to tell him –”

*

A chocolate cupcake was in Mac’s hand, and a smoking birthday candle was on top of it. He pulled it out of the frosting, and sucked on the end. Pete, Dooley, Sully, and Dennis were sprawled on someone's furniture, staring at the television with unfocused eyes. Tom and Jerry was playing at top volume.

“What did you wish for?” asked Charlie. There was frosting at the corner of his mouth, and he was wearing a pink party hat.

Mac licked some frosting off of the top of the cupcake as he tried to remember his wish. “I dunno. Didn’t even realize it was my birthday.”

“I got a present,” mumbled Dennis. He got up from the couch, and wobbled over to where Charlie and Mac were sitting on the floor. Dennis pulled a baggie out of his pocket that contained several colorful tablets. He held it out to Mac. “For the birthday boy.”

Mac took the baggie, opened it, and pulled out a tablet. “Is this E?”

“Purest in Philly,” said Dennis. “Got it from the son of an oil tycoon or some shit. Real tool.”

“Thanks, man,” said Mac. He put one of the tablets in his mouth, and downed it with some beer.

*

“Mac, you’re an asshole, but goddamn you got a knack for getting pure horse,” said Dooley. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaned back onto the couch, and sighed. They were alone in the apartment; everyone else had gone to the park to sweet talk the homeless guys into giving them some 40s.

“My dad has friends who get it from Mexico or whatever,” said Mac. “Smuggle it right up their asses.”

He pulled a baggie of meth out of the pile. Their supply was small nowadays, but they still had a decent amount of meth because it could be stretched so far. Charlie didn’t like it; more for Mac.

“I don’t even care where it’s been. Man... I just can’t believe I ever gave this up,” said Dooley. He closed his eyes in contentment.

“I don’t get why anyone ever quits drugs. They’re the answer to like every problem,” said Mac.

Dooley hummed in reply. Mac pressed on, excited. If he played his cards right, he would get a reliable connection back.

“Like, look at me. Someone could point at my life and go ‘wow that’s a shit life, he’s homeless and has no job, what a loser’ but they’d be dead wrong. You know why?”

“Why?” asked Dooley, smiling.

“Cos I got meth and they don’t. And smoking meth is pretty much the best feeling ever. You don’t need a fancy house or a car or a job when you have meth,” said Mac.

“Or heroin,” said Dooley. “Fuck, man. . .I have almost nothing and I still feel like a million bucks right now.”

“I’m always looking for buyers,” said Mac. His heart pounded with excitement. This was it. He was really going to close a deal.

“I thought you didn’t want to sell to me anymore,” said Dooley. “After I wouldn’t take your application at my job, you stopped answering my phone calls for a month.”

Mac picked up his pipe, a straw, and his lighter. He dipped the straw into his bag, and put a few crystals into the pipe.

“Everything is different since I’ve been on this bender. I used to think I needed so much to be happy. But this,” he gestured to his pipe. “Is really all that I need.”

“What happens when you run out?” asked Dooley.

“I steal some shit, pawn it off, and buy more,” said Mac.

Dooley smiled. “God, you’re such a dick.”

Mac shrugged. “Whatever gets the job done.”

He lit the end of his pipe until smoke appeared inside. Then he inhaled deeply, held it in his lungs for a few seconds, and breathed it out.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” said Dooley.

Mac grinned. “Awesome –”

*

“- I’m telling you, man, this watch is pure gold. You can test it,” said Mac.

“It belonged to my great-grandfather,” said Charlie, in a stupid faux-pretentious voice. “It’s special because he dropped it over the edge of the Mayflower on his way to South America and the Indians had to fish it out of the ocean.”

The pawn shop guy raised his eyes in understandable disbelief.

“That never happened,” said Mac. “My friend here likes to joke. Excuse us for just a minute.”

He yanked Charlie by the arm away from the counter.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m telling the pawn shop guy the story of where the watch came from so it doesn’t look like we stole it,” said Charlie.

“Well, stop it,” said Mac. “Cos that was about the stupidest story I have ever heard.”

“It was your idea in the first place!” exclaimed Charlie. Mac shushed him.

“What do you mean it was my idea?”

“I had a way better story that I came up with on our way over here, but you insisted on this one,” whispered Charlie.

“Oh,” said Mac. “I don’t remember –”

*

“-  Everyone at that hearing was definitely a virgin, so how could they even understand what I was going through? I mean, thank God they didn’t believe her bullshit, but being kicked out of my frat during the hearing because I was ‘making it look bad’ or whatever was just kicking me while I was down,” said Dennis as he paced around the living room. He wiped some blood from his nose on the back of his hand.

Mac took a few hits of his joint, and breathed out, slowly. “I hate women,” he said.

Dennis clenched and unclenched his fists. His hair was sticking up in all directions, and his eyes were wild. “The only good thing about women is that they’re fuckable. And even then, you get this shit-”

“I hate everything about women,” admitted Mac. “Fucking em too. It’s gross.”

Dennis stopped pacing. “You gay or something?”

Mac’s face became hot. “No, I just –”

The pacing resumed; he cut Mac off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t care. The point is just. . .” He flopped down on his couch, and groaned. “Fuck. I don’t even know the point.”

“How long has it been since I’ve seen you?” asked Mac.

“I think the last time we got together was your birthday," said Dennis. "Why?"

“I just keep losing track of time –”

*

“- Oh fuck. That feels so fucking good. Don’t stop,” said the man. Mac was in the bathroom of a seedy club somewhere and holy shit, he was kissing another man’s throat. He pulled away, heart pounding.

“How did I get here?” he said in a tight voice.

The other man frowned in concern. “You were all over me on the dance floor, and then you invited me into the bathroom to fuck.”

“Shit,” said Mac, clenching his hands in his hair. “I must have blacked out. I gotta go –”

*

The stained-glass windows of the church prevented the weak sunlight of the early morning from illuminating the sanctuary. Mac and Charlie were sitting back to back, and sharing a 40. The room was as quiet as a small town blanketed in fresh snow. Charlie took a big gulp of beer, and burped as loud as possible. He giggled as the sound echoed around the room.

“Goddammit, Charlie,” said Mac. “This is a holy place. You can’t just burp in here like an animal.”

“Dude, we’re both getting wasted at four am in a church that we broke into. I’m pretty sure if God existed he would care way more about that shit than my hilarious burps,” said Charlie. He belched again.

Mac had to stifle a laugh; they were pretty funny.

“We chose to spend time with God after hours, and, like, Jesus drank wine at the last supper so there’s no way that drinking can be a sin,” said Mac.

Charlie took another sip of beer. “Pretty sure Jesus wasn’t a meth dealer though.”

“Whatever, man,” said Mac. “Pass me the 40 before you drink it all.”

Charlie passed it over, and Mac took a long drink. It was lukewarm and crunchy, as if someone had dropped it on a beach and let it sit out in the sun.

“This is nasty,” said Mac, wincing. “Where did we get this?”

“Dug it out of a sandbox in the park,” said Charlie.

“What park has beer buried in sandboxes?” asked Mac incredulously.

“I dunno. It’s in a really shitty part of Philly. I can’t read the signs because the handwriting is so bad on all of them,” said Charlie.

“You can’t read the signs because you’re illiterate,” said Mac. He took another unpleasant sip.

“Yeah well –” said Charlie, starting to mount a defense. Finding none he said, “Just pass me the beer.”

“Why are we resorting to digging up beer? What happened with our homeless contact?” asked Mac.

“Don’t you remember?” said Charlie. “He died –”

*

“– How are you 21 years old and still this bad at shoplifting?” hissed Mac. “I saw a dude on a walkie totally make note of you three aisles ago.”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so bossy, I could concentrate better on stealing,” said Charlie. He pulled some cough medicine off of the shelf, and dropped it in his pocket.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” said Mac.

Charlie shoved a bottle of cough syrup into Mac’s hand.

“It makes perfect sense if you’re high on cough syrup.”

“Well, I’m not,” said Mac. “Cough syrup is nasty.”

“Trust me dude,” said Charlie. “It feels great.”

Mac opened the bottle, and sniffed it. Charlie had picked out grape, which smelled infinitely better than the cherry stuff he remembered from being a kid. He looked up and down the aisle for security. Finding nobody, he tipped the bottle into his mouth, and took several large gulps. Mac grimaced at the foul flavor.

“Fuckin gross,” he said.

“You won’t be saying that in about ten minutes,” said Charlie. “Now how do you feel about drinking mouthwash –”

*

“– I think you’d be so proud of me if you could see my life now, dad,” said Mac into the payphone. “Selling heroin is starting to make me some money again. All of the local drug lords think I grew up to be just as hard as you.”

“For the last time, I’m not your father. Stop collect calling me at 3 AM!” said the person on the other end of the line. Then, he hung up.

Mac put the phone back on its hook, shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself. Scattered snowflakes dusted the street; he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Charlie was leaned against a nearby building, eyes closed. Mac walked over to him and said,

“Wrong number.”

“Dude, it’s been the wrong number like the past 20 times you’ve tried to call your dad. You gotta stop trying,” said Charlie.

Mac pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I could swear this is the right number –”

“You copied that number out of a ten-year-old phone book at the library. There is no way in hell that it’s right,” said Charlie.

“Maybe we should just go visit my dad,” said Mac.

Charlie sighed. “Your dad put us on a no visitation list because we were bothering him so much.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?” asked Mac. His chest felt tight; the chilly air burned his lungs.

“Positive, man,” said Charlie. “I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in Mac’s eyes. “I forgot.” He wiped them away with the palm of his hand.

Charlie patted him on the shoulder. “Aw, don’t be like that. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you again someday.”

“You think so?” said Mac.

“Sure!” said Charlie. “And hey, even if he doesn’t – look, I’m living proof that you don’t need a dad to be happy. I got all I need right here.” Charlie gestured to the beer in his hand. “And right here.” He clapped Mac on the shoulder again.

Mac cracked a smile. “I’m pretty sure you’d die without glue, too.”

“Shit, you’re right,” said Charlie. “We should go get some as soon as possible.”

“I think there’s a 24-hour gas station a few blocks from here –”

*

“- There is no way that heaven isn’t packed to the gills with beefcakes,” said Mac. He and Charlie were sitting side by side in the sanctuary of a church. Mac’s head was leaned on Charlie’s shoulder; he was exhausted.

“I’m calling bullshit on that because I don’t want to meet beefcakes in heaven,” said Charlie. He huffed from the sock that covered their bottle of glue, and sighed. “I feel like they’d just make me feel bad about my body, man. Who wants that for eternity?”

“I’d relish in the opportunity to strive for their level of physical perfection,” said Mac.

Charlie nodded, and passed him the glue. “I’m totally gonna get with the waitress in heaven.”

“I dunno if heaven works like that, buddy,” said Mac.

“I’m sorry, are you an expert on how heaven works now?” said Charlie. Mac huffed the glue, and coughed at its potency.

“Definitely more of an expert than you. I go to church like all the time,” said Mac.

“We’ve only been to one service since we started this bender, and you were drunk the entire time,” said Charlie. “You are a lapsed Catholic, my friend.”

Mac scoffed. “Whatever, dude. I’ll get back on the wagon someday. I’m just. . .taking a break is all.”

“Just a short, drugged, three-month break,” said Charlie, yawning.

“Has it really been that long?” said Mac. Charlie grabbed the glue from him, and huffed it again.

“Yep,” said Charlie. “Three months sometime this week.”

“That’s so badass. We should do something special to celebrate,” said Mac.

“We should get high and go to the planetarium,” said Charlie.

“You are like, obsessed with that place,” said Mac. He grabbed the glue from Charlie, and huffed it. “But I’m into it. And I got another great idea to go with it.”

“Lay it on me, bro,” said Charlie.

“Dooley’s been on the same epic bender as us,” said Mac. “We should invite him to come too.”

*

It was decided that they would each celebrate with their favorite drug. They gathered in the bathroom before the show to get high in private. Charlie huffed as much glue as possible, Mac smoked a shitload of meth, and Dooley, well –

“I didn’t know you were shooting up now,” said Mac.

Dooley nodded as he drove the needle into his skin. “Best way to get my kicks,” he said.

They sat in the front row afterwards; Charlie was in the middle, Mac was on his right, and Dooley was on his left. The lights dimmed in the theater, and the wonders of the universe opened up before their eyes.

_“Our solar system formed about four and a half billion years ago.”_

Mac snickered. “That’s such bullshit.”

“Shhh, dude. Just look at the stars,” said Charlie. His eyes were wide with awe.

_“We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.”_

“I feel so small right now, man,” whispered Charlie.

“That’s the awesome power of god blowing your mind, Charlie,” said Mac. “He made the sun and the sky and the earth and one day he’ll blow it all up and we’ll go to heaven.”

 _“From the point of view of a star, a human being is a tiny flash, one of billions of brief lives_.”

“Do you think God has a plan for us?” asked Charlie. “Or do you think God looks at us like that star? Like. . .do we matter at all?”

Mac breathed out slowly. “Shit, dude. I dunno. I think He has to look at us sometimes, and He definitely cares about some stuff but. . .He’s got a lot on his mind, I bet.”

“War and hunger and kids in Africa probably take up a lot of His mind, I think,” said Charlie.

Mac nodded. “What do you think Dooley?”

Dooley didn’t respond. Charlie shook him.

“Dooley? Wake up buddy!”

Nothing.

“Shit, is he dead?” said Mac in a tight voice.

“I think so,” whispered Charlie. “What do we do?”

“Run,” said Mac.

*

Dooley’s funeral was small and informal. Most of his family members weren’t speaking to him when he died, and he never had that many friends. Even though the church was mostly empty, Charlie and Mac sat in the back during the eulogy.

“This is dark,” said Mac as Dooley’s grandmother started to sob.

“It’s cos everyone is being overdramatic. I mean, the man went out doing what he loved. You think they’d celebrate that at least a little,” said Charlie. He took a sip of his beer, and handed it over to Mac. There wasn’t much left, so he drank the rest.

“Dooley died from a heroin overdose. I don’t think that’s a cause for celebration,” said Mac.

“Yeah, I guess. I love drugs but that’s definitely not the way I wanna die,” said Charlie.

Mac sighed. “I think this is probably a sign that our bender should end.”

“Oh, definitely,” said Charlie. “I mean, it’s been epic, but I don’t want to die with a huge shit in my pants like Dooley did.”

“We don’t have to stop doing drugs entirely,” said Mac.

“Oh, absolutely not,” said Charlie. “Drugs are awesome.”

“We just. . .scale it back a little,” said Mac. “So we don’t. . .you know. . .”

Dooley’s sister broke down into tears too. The grief echoed around the church, and tugged at Mac’s heart.

“Is this our fault?” he asked Charlie. His friend shook his head.

“Nah. It’s not like we injected heroin into him or whatever.”

“You invited him along and I sold him the heroin,” said Mac.

“It doesn’t matter, man,” said Charlie. “It’s like what the science bitch was saying at the planetarium – we’re just butterflies, and sometimes we die. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just a thing that happens.”

Mac sighed. “You think he’s up in heaven right now?”

“For sure,” said Charlie. “He’s tying off with God as we speak.”

“There’s no way that heroin exists in heaven, Charlie,” said Mac.

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Charlie. “Pass me the beer.”

“We’re all out,” said Mac.

Charlie sighed. “Goddammit. This service is boring as shit without booze.”

“Wanna sneak out and steal a sixer from the liquor store down the street?” asked Mac.

Charlie grinned. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have done any of these drugs and I got it super wrong, my apologies. I got a lot of info from bluelight forums because I haven't done most of these drugs myself.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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